


A man with a metal arm walks into a bar...

by NamelessDragon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Arson, Attempted Murder, Bottom Loki (Marvel), Cock & Ball Torture, Explicit Sexual Content, Explosives, Hate Sex, Knives, Light Bondage, M/M, Masochism, Mild Loki whump, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not Canon Compliant, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Not Thor: The Dark World Compliant, Painful Sex, Threats of Violence, Top Bucky Barnes, in terms of the very endings of those movies, this is basically Loki and Bucky playing a game of Murder Tag as foreplay, via a certain metal arm, well mild for me anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22905415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelessDragon/pseuds/NamelessDragon
Summary: After the defeat of the Dark Elves, Loki doesn't take the throne of Asgard. Instead, he runs to space.Bucky doesn't go into hiding on Earth after Project Insight's collapse. Instead, he runs to space.Things don't exactly go well when they meet.(Or do they?)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Loki
Comments: 12
Kudos: 157





	A man with a metal arm walks into a bar...

**Author's Note:**

> Fic request from an anon with the prompt "That was drugged" and Loki/Bucky as a pairing. It was supposed to be a ficlet, but as I am incapable of writing any single story under 10,000 words...here's a short story.

The problem with most inhabited extraterrestrial planets beyond the Nine Realms was that, at a point, they each bled into the other. Thousands upon thousands of worlds and empires, and there somehow remained an unending sameness between them. But in most sentient species there were categorized the civilians, the rigid minders of the law, those that upheld it, and those that attempted to subvert it. Some worlds were more chaotic, but there were often always rules, whether unspoken or not, that the people within them were meant to follow. The aesthetics changed, the nuances differed, and not much else. 

There were exceptions. But those planets were often in the midst of destabilization and war, the strong slaughtering the weak. Or else abandoned. Empty.

Loki had visited them, here and there. Wondered if Thor knew how far really stretched the universe. If he cared to know.

They’d had lessons when they were younger, of course. Books written by scholars about every known planet. And Asgard’s All-Seeing Watcher could look through it all. 

How small Earth was in the grand scheme of things. Even the rest of the Nine Realms, with all their magic. A pinprick in the greater universe, incomprehensibly vast.

And, it was all of it...boring.

The current bar Loki was frequenting was like any of the dozens of others he’d come across in the last several months: overcrowded, far too loud, with a miasma of bodily stench and alcohol. He generally paid his way with the spoils he made from gambling - and he often won by cheating, of course. Sorcery wasn’t a common trait, even this far out. And those that accused him insofar as to make attempts on his life...didn’t tend to keep theirs.

Not tonight, though. Tonight he was feeling particularly morose. Purposeless. There was an axe hanging over his head, waiting to emerge from the in-between parts of the universe. The places that were, to his regrettably extensive experience, decidedly _not_ boring. 

But even that was taking so long to arrive that what had once been a deep fear was now a dull ache of nervousness buried under a cold despondence.

Asgard’s throne was out of reach. He’d had his chance for an attempt at vengeance against the Allfather, and he’d chosen instead to send himself across the far reaches to search for something else. As if he’d expected for it to be simply dropped in his lap.

And every moment of every day, he thought about what he’d left behind, and he hated himself for it. 

He had accommodations in one of the less seedy corners of the current city he was inhabiting. The skiff he’d attempted to modify with his magic to fly between worlds and bring him this far had finally failed beneath the pressure of such rough travel, so he’d had to set up more of a base than he would have liked. Hence his current frustrating tendency towards the maudlin. 

He should be searching for a new ship. It would be fairly simple to steal one off of someone, though likely less simple to avoid pursuit unless he found the right target. And he was still attempting to keep somewhat of a low profile, even as far from Asgard as he was. Heimdall could not see him, the Watcher's eyes blocked by an especially thorough spell that Loki had spent long years of his childhood developing. But if Loki did manage to slip up and somehow procure a hefty enough bounty on his head, well...a fair amount of people in the universe could read, or else recognize a face. 

Loki could change his face, and often did if he thought it would gain him an advantage. But lately, he’d found holding the illusion difficult. A distaste in the back of his throat each time he’d hidden his appearance. A wildness stirring in his chest now that he’d been given enough time to rest, to breathe true freedom without death threatening his every waking moment. 

He did not know what he wanted. But the answer was not to cast off the only part of himself he had left, to become faceless as well as nameless.

And, apparently, neither was the answer to stop drinking. Or to stop his observations of a man sitting in a booth in the corner of the bar.

The man was dressed all in black, humanoid, and in possession of a skin tone that could place him comfortably in either the Xandarian or Asgardian species. Or perhaps, an especially pale Krylorian. Broadly built, with shoulder-length brown hair bracketing a square jaw peppered with stubble. His legs were spread wide, his posture slouched enough that Loki would have thought him relaxed if not for the large gun on clear display beside him. It wasn’t out of the ordinary - most of the bar patrons were armed, and some even to an obscene degree. Judging by the number of pockets and satchels attached to the man’s clothing, he likely had more weapons stowed on his person.

None of those observations were particularly remarkable. What _was_ interesting, was the notepad on the table before him. It was constructed of paper, and the pen clutched in his gloved hand was of a similar primitive make. Loki noted the way he stared down at it, forehead wrinkled and lips parted in clear concentration. Also of note was the fact that he had ordered water not once, but three times.

A bar full of rowdy patrons gambling, cursing, and shouting, and here was a man out of place in all but physical appearance. A man used to not being noticed.

Loki had noticed. And he was just bored enough to see what poking this particular bull with a stick would gain him. If only to be one hundred percent sure he was not dealing with an Asgardian.

As if hearing his thoughts, the man glanced up. He met Loki’s eyes for a moment before he lowered them. It had not even been long enough that Loki could be entirely sure it was not just an aimless scan of the room.

Oh, certainly trying to not attract attention.

Perhaps he had a ship. Then two goals of Loki’s would be met.

He made his way across the establishment. Closer inspection revealed his target possessed none of the indicative face ridges of a Krylorian.

The man did not look up from his notebook. “I don’t have a universal translator implant.”

English. 

Loki stopped dead. Human. The man was _human._

His curiosity piqued, flared alongside a not insignificant simmer of an emotion that was very near to outrage. Surely the spacefaring capabilities of humans could not have progressed very much beyond what he had last seen during his last encounter with Earth. It could not be that in his attempt to leave his old life behind he would happen to stumble upon such a strong reminder of it even as far out as he had managed to escape.

Well, there was one way to be certain.

Noting Loki’s hesitation, the man finally gazed up. The steel blue of his eyes was not antagonistic, but neither was it particularly friendly. He reached up to tap the back of his neck meaningfully, then shook his head. A pantomiming of words in response to what he assumed was a misunderstanding.

“I do not think that will make things too terribly difficult,” Loki said, covering the roiling emotions in him with a careful smoothness.

The man’s eyes rounded with shock, then almost immediately narrowed in cautious scrutiny. He gave Loki a more thorough once-over. The pen was carefully lowered to the table.

“You understand English,” the man said. All previous ease had been erased; he was now poised like someone being hunted. But he was also interacting with instead of ignoring Loki, so that was an improvement. “Didn’t think anyone did, this far out.”

“That makes two of us,” Loki responded, keeping his voice friendly in an attempt to lure the man back into a feeling of security. “I’m Loki,” he added, because he apparently wished to continue his current habits of throwing all caution to the wind. “You’re from Earth, aren’t you?”

The reveal of the knowledge did not have the desired effect. The man’s face closed off, and he clamped his notebook closed, quickly placing it into some sort of pack he kept at his side. 

Loki attempted to placate. “I assure you, I meant no offense. I was only curious.”

The man shook his head, refusing to be charmed. “I’m not from anywhere,” he said, throwing up one final wary glance before rising. He tossed a handful of credits onto the table and slipped by Loki on his way out. “Don’t follow me.”

Just like that. Simple. 

Loki watched him go. If he was truly from Earth, then he would have had to have made his way this far out using some means of transportation.

Loki allowed a slow grin to form. 

He gave him a three minute head start.

\----------

Not less than three hours later, Loki was wondering if he would have to reconsider his expectations. The human lived in squalor, in the midst of a dilapidated grouping of boxes that could more reasonably be called cubby holes than homes. 

He’d tried to lose Loki, taking circuits through the city, all the while maintaining a casual if nervous air. He was fast, agile, and had enough of an understanding of the secret routes of the area that Loki knew he must have been inhabiting it for some time. 

If Loki had not used his magic to aid in keeping himself hidden he was not quite sure he would have managed such a complex chase. As it was, he was entertained in a way he had not been since disposing of the Kree that had promised to creatively slaughter him weeks prior. 

Eventually, the man slowed in his escape. The set to his shoulders began to relax. His footsteps, while still quick, no longer weaved him over fences or through tunnels. He still glanced about with the fervency of the paranoid, but he must have assumed he’d left Loki behind, because he eventually ended at his residence. 

Loki hadn’t expected a human to be worth much, out in the far reaches, but he couldn’t help the inward cringe at the size and state of the man’s dwelling. Perhaps he should reconsider his assumption that his quarry even owned a functioning ship. Or one that Loki would be willing to set foot into.

He considered his options.

It was growing very late. There would not be many witnesses should a struggle break out. 

Loki didn’t doubt that there was a high possibility of an array of traps if he attempted to infiltrate, but if he so chose, he was sure he could bypass them. 

Just now, he didn’t choose. He left a simple spell at the door, triggered to alert him as soon as the residence was vacated.

\----------

He received no such alert. The next evening, he was back in the same bar that he frequented. The edges of his senses were tamped beneath a buzz too close to numbness to be called something like pleasant.

He was letting himself go far more than usual. The voice that yelled at him to be on his guard, to not allow his judgment to be clouded, to have some _pride_ , was becoming faint. 

But still not faint enough.

What was the point of any sort of pride, anyway. It wasn’t as if he was King of Asgard. No one here knew him, and one way or another he would be gone within a week. Gone to some other useless planet or station, where he would likely again make as much of a lasting mark as a boot print upon the sand before a rising tide.

He was certainly not going to remain here and wait for something, _anything_ to happen, even if his plan from the night before happened to fall through.

 _You could return to Asgard,_ he thought. _You know the direction. You know the secret paths._

Return, and what, negate his final heroic act? Allow Odin to throw him back into the same cell to rot away the rest of his existence? 

If he was even allowed that leniency. Frigga was dead. There was nothing to bar Odin’s hatred for his monster son. No more chances. Only a final message wrapped in the blade of an axe: you are unwanted and unloved.

Even Thor might try to kill him if he ever saw him again. Loki’s survival of Kurse’s attack could technically be construed as a betrayal, even if it had been entirely a fluke. That served the possibility of being amusing, though just then the thought felt more distasteful to him than anything else. 

He wondered if Thor would be receiving any punishment for his acts of treason, and felt a pulse of that thought stir up some less than pleasant emotions. 

Odin would forgive Thor. Of course he would forgive Thor. What was he going to do, find a new wife to bear another heir? Pick up another abandoned baby to add to his collection of false progeny?

Loki was distracted from those thoughts as something hard and metal pressed into the small of his back, directly over his spine. He sat straighter, senses immediately focused on that single touch.

The voice behind him, though soft, held an unmistakable undercurrent of fury. “What the hell did you do to my apartment?”

Loki frowned, eyelids fluttering in shock. He felt for his spell, and found it still intact. “I did not get notice that you left through the door,” he said, mildly curious, and deeply relieved that his earlier train of thought had been dismantled with this new stimulation.

“I didn’t leave through the door,” the man said, and the gun dug in more sharply, the heat of his body crowding in closer. “What the hell did you do?”

“If you fire that,” Loki said, a small smirk stealing over him, “it won’t hurt me. Or at least, not as much as you are hoping it will.”

A gloved hand came down firmly on the bar next to him, and he had the feeling that was supposed to be threatening, but all it elicited was further amusement. He heard a sound like the grinding of machinery, muffled but close. “I told you not to follow me.”

His night had certainly taken a turn for the better. He focused on the discomfort at his back, letting the danger of it sharpen his mind. “And, as we have established, I do understand English.”

“So what do you want?”

“At the moment, I’m simply wondering what a Midgardian would be doing in this particular galaxy.”

“A what?”

Loki turned his head to address his assailant face to face. “Midgardian. Terran. _Earthian._ ”

The anger in those stormy eyes grew to severe levels, but there were still no follow up movements. “Got something against humans?”

 _Yes._ “Not particularly,” Loki said airily. He wondered if the snap of the man’s spine beneath his hands would be as satisfying as he imagined it would be.

Bow-shaped lips pressed together, a dip of the chin, and - there it was, the caution from the day before breaking over that furious expression. A falter, now that his tactics were not quite going the way he expected. “So just something against me.”

Loki leaned demonstratively against the bar, posture relaxed. “I actually haven’t the faintest idea of who you are.” He wrinkled his nose. “Are you _always_ this suspicious of people seeking simple conversation?”

A muscle jumped near the man’s eye. “I sometimes get twitchy when people start stalking me, sure.”

“It happens often, I take it. Warranted, or…?”

Another sharp dig with the gun - Loki felt the pain radiate, and stir his blood. “Shut up.”

Loki did go quiet, but not still. He lifted his glass to his lips, taking a long, casual drink. The man watched him do it, frustration reaching a peak in the lingering silence, jaw clenched and fury shining in his eyes. 

Loki raised his eyebrows expectantly. The man bared his teeth, all at once removing the gun and settling himself angrily onto the stool beside him.

The man stared at the drinks lining the bar, hand still clutching his weapon. “What do you want?”

Loki’s lips twitched - he was sorry their encounter had not escalated, but glad that the fact meant there would be further entertainment to be had from the situation. He traced through the condensation on his glass with his fingertips. “Was your plan _really_ to attempt to intimidate me into leaving you alone?”

“Obviously, it didn’t work. So how do I get you off my back?” There was something new in the man’s voice. A thread of desperation, at odds with the hard line that formed over his eyes. He never removed his hand from his gun, never relaxed the coiled muscles of his body.

“My name is Loki.”

“I don’t care.”

“I believe the cordial response is to offer your name in turn.”

“I bet I sound awful cordial right now.” The man’s jaw tightened, then a slight slump angled his shoulders downwards. He lowered his gaze to the bar counter. “Bucky,” he said, throat working as he swallowed nervously. “Barnes.”

Loki paused, unsure if he’d heard correctly. “Was that another Midgardian curse word, or-”

The teasing benefited Loki another flash of that fury-filled stare. “It’s my goddamn _name_.”

“You have my thanks,” Loki said, his smile now firmly in place. He was really starting to get a bit taken with this riled human and his expressive eyes. There was an edge to it - a feeling that there would be just as much satisfaction in killing as there would be in any flirtatious advances. “To answer your question, I’m looking for a ship. Since you are from Earth, it stands to reason you came into possession of one to end up all the way out here.”

An incredulous stare was aimed his way. Barnes slowly rubbed the fingers of his left hand together in a wary fidget. “Why not ask someone else?”

“I was actually planning to steal it, thinking you’d be an easy target.”

His face darkened again. “At least you’re honest, I guess.”

“You might be disappointed in that regard,” Loki said. “I don’t make it a habit. Was that your arm making noises earlier?”

The human turned to him, his knees nearly brushing against Loki’s hip as his narrowed eyes roved up and down. His bearing changed, breaths evening out as he ended his perusal with a steady glare directed at Loki’s face.

And perhaps it was the drink, but Loki felt a stir of something base as he was regarded so intensely by those stormy, grey-blue eyes - the look that told him Barnes was inches away from attempting to slam Loki’s head against the bar.

He’d always had an easy time of taking the threat of violence and sex in the same vein. And now, no longer trapped on Asgard, there was no one of importance around to judge him on such feelings. No one whose opinions mattered, at any rate.

And it had been...a very long time, since he’d sought out companionship of that type. Too concerned with the thought of rule and acceptance - and then after, too concerned with freedom and survival and control. Barnes was pretty enough - and, as he was human, _weak_ enough to not concern Loki if they fucked. And if he wasn’t open to seduction, perhaps he would be of use for a fight. It certainly seemed like tipping him towards violence would be a simple affair.

Unfortunately, what Barnes said next made that growing spark immediately sputter into the background. “You don’t want anyone knowing _you’re_ here, either.”

Loki pressed his lips together. It appeared there was an inconvenient shrewdness to the man that belied his fumbling presentation earlier. 

Before he could quite think of a response, Barnes leaned towards him, hand fisted upon the counter. “What, you’re pissed at _me,_ now? You _bugged my apartment._ ”

“Enough,” Loki said, all playfulness gone from his tone, the hooks of something he refused to name dread coiling about his spine. “I want your ship. You can either remain here, or you can join me to my next destination.”

Barnes’ nostrils flared with a deep inhale. “And where’s that?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Way to sell me on it, asshole.”

“I am not trying to sell you on it,” Loki said, and now his posture was mirroring his quarry’s in threat, enough that he knew they would be drawing the attention of the nearby bar patrons. “Either you help me, or I can send word across the reaches of space - including Earth - to let them know exactly where you are.”

It was a bluff. Loki didn’t have the means of communicating over a distance that far. And even if he did, he wouldn’t risk flooding the far reaches with even more humans. 

But it was enough. A distant fear lurked in those glaring eyes, enough that though he was positioned within striking distance, though his left arm curved and made those peculiar mechanical noises, he was not driven to attack.

“My ship’s being repaired,” Barnes said begrudgingly. To all appearances a truthful answer. “It’s going to take at least a few days.”

Loki picked up his drink once more, equanimity returning. “I am in no hurry.”

“Yeah. Great.” There was a screech as Barnes pressed his seat back.

Loki turned his head to watch him leave, unashamedly letting his eyes linger on the shape of the man’s broad thighs as they moved.

Before he could exit, Loki called, “Would you prefer to house yourself somewhere without the stench of deceased vermin?”

The human raised his hand beside his head, forming a fist but for his middle finger as he continued out into the night.

Loki felt a core of warmth spreading within him that had little to do with, but was perhaps enhanced by the alcohol. 

“I like him,” Loki told the bartender as his drink was refilled.

\----------

During their third encounter, it was again Barnes that sought Loki out.

The man had some skill, Loki would admit. If Loki had not warded every inch of the area around his current living space within two hundred yards, Barnes might have even managed to approach it unnoticed. 

He’d felt the presence of an intruder lingering on the edges of the perimeter to his temporary housing, bought with the not insignificant amount of money he’d received from the scrapping of Asgard’s skiff. The architecture reminded him of a small castle, if somewhat alien. It was far enough away from the overstimulation and smog of too many neighbors, but close enough to the main part of the city that there were ample opportunities for distraction and escape should he require it.

He ignored the presence at first, not knowing the identity and noting that the next wards closer to the building went untripped. But after the minutes stretched longer and longer, with no sign of the presence removing itself, he began to grow wary. Especially when he peered through one of the windows and saw no obvious threat.

He should leave, he thought with trepidation. Slip away quietly. He’d been careless, and drew far too much attention.

He opened the door, called his knives, and made himself known. “If you care to die,” he said with a raised voice. “I would be happy to oblige.”

He hadn’t really expected an answer, but one came immediately. “Gonna be kind of hard to appropriate my ship if it’s impounded by the shop when I don’t show up for it.”

Loki paused in surprise, then tracked the yard in a cautious scan. “I am not one to shy away from a challenge,” he said carefully.

“Yeah,” came the flat response. “I picked up on that.”

“Are you here to attempt to kill me?” Loki didn’t know which answer to that he preferred. He was almost hoping this situation ended in bloodshed.

“No. Not really looking for the extra attention.”

Loki made a sound of amusement. He made a double in his place and slipped from it, masked to sight. “It’s somewhat of a large distance between our dwellings to call for the level of suspension of belief required by that phrase.”

“Yeah, well, I already tried to avoid your attention,” Barnes said. 

“And now you seek it out,” Loki’s double said. 

“No. Didn’t realize you’d have the area bugged so far out.”

They were really going to have to work on his phrasing. “I like to be thorough in my wards.”

“You must be getting hunted by something big.”

Loki found him crouched behind a low shrub. His gun was aimed through the branches, precisely aimed at the spot where Loki’s double stood. He was tense, the curves of his muscled arms clear even through the thick fabric that clothed them. Loki had the sense that, should he choose, Barnes could have maintained such a position with ease for a very extended period.

He allowed his double to fade. “I told you that weapon would not harm me.”

The barrel quickly swung around towards him, held in a steady grip. The eyes weren’t just glaring now but positively bursting with an inferno of emotion. “And I think you’re full of shit.”

This was possibly becoming dangerous ground. He was no longer merely poking the bull, but yanking at its horns. 

“Go on, then,” Loki challenged, a tingle of anticipation racing down his spine. “Fire.”

He watched, poised, as the finger on the trigger tightened by increments. Ready for the slightest provocation.

But it did not follow through.

“If you’re not planning on attacking me,” Loki said, feeling a combating stir of relief and irritation. “You might as well come inside and join me for a drink.”

“I don’t drink,” Barnes answered. “And I can’t get drunk.”

“I sincerely doubt that your constitution outweighs my own.”

“So what if it doesn’t. The first point still stands.”

“So what you are telling me is that you’ve performed the astonishing act of venturing out beyond your known solar system, traveled farther than any of your kind has any knowledge or inclination to pursue, and you’ve done it all to sit in some rundown, filthy bar and consume...water.”

“It’s been working well for me so far.”

“It sounds terribly boring.”

“Boring’s good,” Barnes said. “I like boring.”

Loki smirked. He took a step forward, allowing the gun to come in contact with his chest. He vanished one of his knives, raised his hand, and demonstratively curled his fingers about the barrel. “Really,” he asked, voice low and suggestive. “Then why are you still here?”

He’d been expecting the human to lash out. What he _hadn’t_ expected was for it to be with a simple, unarmed punch.

A simple, unarmed punch that was somehow powerful enough to send Loki staggering back in surprise at the sudden pain in his face. He received a kick next that was much easier to deflect, and then another blow from the same arm that he brought his palm up to intercept.

He stared at the man incredulously. “I thought you were human. Is your arm made of rocks?”

“Close,” Barnes answered. “And I never said I was human.”

 _Now_ he fired. Loki grunted as the bullets tore at him even as they failed to penetrate completely - his weapon was of a higher quality than expected. Yet another fact that Loki had misjudged.

Barnes wrenched his arm out of Loki’s grip, and when Loki swung his knife in response it tore through the thick sleeve of his jacket and screeched irritatingly against metal before his target ducked down and lashed out with incredible strength to the center of Loki’s chest. 

Loki stumbled back, hand pressed over the site of pain. _That might actually leave a bruise. How incredibly offensive._

Loki’s breath snagged on a laugh - he dug his fingers in against his own stinging skin and felt his blood begin to sing, warming his core. “Oh, Barnes,” he said. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Barnes was breathing heavily, hair falling wildly over his face, but those eyes - glittering and feral, locked themselves to Loki’s movements. He was clearly taken aback at the ease with which Loki had withstood his attack.

“Do you want to kill me,” Loki asked, dividing himself into many illusions, weaving between them to hide himself, watching the fear overtake Barnes’ face as he twisted to take them all in. They spoke as one. “You had no fear of me until I mentioned Earth. From what are you running?”

Barnes launched himself violently forward - and Loki only had a moment to realize his own shock before a metal hand clamped over his neck, the force enough to overbalance him and send him to the ground. His illusions dissipated immediately. 

Barnes breathed through bared teeth. “How ‘bout you go first,” he said, and then the ground directly beneath Loki _exploded_.

When the world had righted itself and his ears had stopped ringing, Loki quickly dragged himself into a crouch, ignoring the flare of cuts and burns along his back as he squinted through the dirt still floating in the air. 

Barnes was gone. 

He carefully rose, scanning for any trace. Vanished, as if he was no more than one of Loki’s illusions.

Several yards to the side a new crater rested in the ground, still refilling with ejecta. Loki cautiously approached it, remembering the sound like thunder and the pain of shrapnel tearing through the outer layers of his flesh.

Barnes had placed some sort of bomb in the ground before their encounter. Probably, he’d hoped it would kill Loki. And had not even remained in the aftermath to see if the job had been carried out.

Oh, Loki thought, this was _war._

\----------

Of course, Barnes had vacated his apartment.

Loki’s fury burned with the insult of such flagrant dismissal. He spoke with the property manager, letting the itch of knitting flesh on his back inspire motivation. Barnes had left recently and in a hurry, he was told. It was easily done, for he didn’t own much. 

And now, he could be anywhere. He might not even still be on the planet, if he managed to retake his ship earlier than the projected completion date of its repairs.

He wouldn’t return to the apartment. He couldn’t, for Loki had quietly set it ablaze and laid the blame on Barnes for its destruction and the damages to the residences directly adjacent. And while there wasn’t exactly much of an effective policing system for the city, should Barnes make his escape before his call to justice, he would now have more than a few enemies besides Loki who would recall his face.

\----------

Barnes hadn’t left the planet.

Loki was at his third of the available ship repair shops in the city when he spotted him. Gloved hands, and a tense stature that Loki was becoming quite familiar with. He was attempting to communicate with the reptilian-eyed worker behind the counter, a task made difficult without the implantation of a universal translator. 

Loki kept himself hidden with both a glamour and careful positioning, wary after Barnes’ uncanny ability to correctly spot him among his doubles.

“I told you when you started,” the unimpressed shop worker said. “Two years full time wages for the parts. Without them, it won’t fly.”

Barnes breathed out deeply through his nose. He rooted around in his pocket and pulled free a small oval electronic device, offering it in his palm.

The shop worker looked taken aback. “Your storage unit?”

Barnes nodded sharply.

“I can send someone over to tally up what everything’s worth, but...are you sure, Barnes? It might not be enough, and if it is that ship is going to be the only thing you have left.”

“I know,” Barnes answered. He pressed the device more firmly into the shop worker’s scaly hand, then quickly moved off. “I’m gonna start work.”

A second worker - humanoid, and blue-skinned - looked sidelong at his companion. “What happened with Barnes?”

“He’s got the itch again. Think it’s for good, this time.”

“I thought he finally settled.”

“He was stuck here, is all. Been looking for a way out since day one.”

“I don’t believe that. He stopped carrying on the job.”

“You just weren’t looking hard enough. Barnes always carries; he’s just been keeping smaller guns.” 

“Gonna be a shame to lose him.”

Their voices trailed behind Loki as he followed Barnes, keeping himself carefully hidden from prying eyes. He wandered through lines of ships, some large, some small - some hanging from the ceiling and completely gutted. The repair yard was entirely enclosed - there were a few machines that looked to be for ventilation, but the smell of oil and fumes remained prominent.

A worker of a particularly large species of grey-skinned alien was struggling with the rotation of one of his tools against the ship, struggling and grunting, until Barnes intervened and reached over with his artificial hand, successfully completing the task with a metallic screech. He nodded when he was thanked, but the distant look to his eyes remained.

Loki followed, maintaining a careful distance, and spent the majority of the next hour observing his quarry in relative safety. Barnes was capable, if a bit under-educated, but he tended to only need brief explanations before correctly engaging in the instructed task. Physically, he was stronger than Loki had first assumed, even discounting the artificial limb. More often than not he simply scaled the larger crafts using available hand holds and his own prowess instead of waiting for a climbing structure to be put into place to assist him.

Another Avenger-worthy human, it seemed. Loki wondered if their kind were multiplying more with every passing day. One more reason to steer clear of Earth.

Barnes assisted the yard workers with their various repair projects, performing tasks immediately and efficiently and without complaint. That usual tension remained in his shoulders, and when there were moments of lull in his duties he would often scan the entirety of the yard with the wariness of the hunted before further instructions were barked at him.

Loki allowed himself to feel a bit of pride at that. At least Barnes was smart enough to worry.

Loki gathered information on his new enemy for another hour or so, before slipping himself back to the front of the shop. He dropped his glamour when no eyes were turned on him.

“Hello,” he greeted. “I have a ship in need of repairs. One of your employees offered to assist me.”

The shop worker looked startled at his sudden appearance. He frowned, but ultimately didn’t question it. “Which one?”

“I believe he said his name was Barnes. I have some extra credits to spare, you see, and he indicated he was in dire need.”

The shop worker’s surprise faded into a stunned, but pleased look. He clearly cared a great deal about the welfare of his Terran employee. “Barnes is our all-purpose grunt worker. He doesn’t do much work directly on the ships themselves without another crewmember overseeing him. Unless you’re looking for weapon maintenance or trade in firearm repair.”

Weapon maintenance. Appropriate, from what Loki had thus far seen of his quarry. “That was precisely what he offered.”

“Let me call him up,” the worker said. “It might be a few minutes.”

“I will be glad to wait.”

\----------

It did, in fact, only take a few minutes. Loki was not hiding now, easily chatting with the shop workers to help cement his aura of friendliness. Barnes had to have heard his voice well before he came back into the room. 

He entered instead of fleeing, which raised Loki’s appreciation of the man’s spine but not his intelligence. There was still grease stained on his clothes, and along the silver of his arm. He paused in the doorway, staring hard at Loki.

The shop workers didn’t seem surprised at his caution.

“Barnes! This here uh, Loki, was it? Says he’s got some blasters that need repairing on that ship you offered to look at for him.”

Loki looked back, unblinking as their eyes met. _Your move,_ he thought. _Run, and I will follow. Stay, and perhaps you’ll live long enough to explain yourself._

Barnes’ expression was stone, his eyes never wavering from Loki’s face. “What’s the problem with them,” he asked, toneless. No argument against the scenario Loki had put forth, which was not a surprise. Loki had expected that Barnes would hold his secrets for as long as he could manage.

“A malfunction,” Loki said, slipping back into his easy smile. “I’m afraid that the last time I tried to use them one nearly exploded on me.”

“Was it showing signs of issues before that,” Barnes asked.

Loki shook his head. “Only minor complications.”

“It’s not a good idea to use a weapon that’s been showing any signs of complication. Too dangerous.”

“Luckily, I am not that fragile. And I am very determined to make this work.”

Barnes’ gaze bore into Loki for several seconds, before he eventually breathed a sigh through flared nostrils. “Seems like,” he said. He turned his back and walked out into the shipyard without another word.

Loki glanced at the other shop-workers, and received an apologetic grimace from the man behind the counter. “He’s not having a good day. I promise he’s friendly. And he’ll do good work. Just direct him to where you need him to be.”

“Thank you,” Loki said, and made his way after Barnes.

Barnes ignored Loki as he made his way through lines of all manner of aircraft. Along the back of the shipyard rested a wall with several large metallic containers. Barnes walked towards one, unlocking it. Inside was a mostly open space, with spare parts organized along the walls, identifiable as weapons meant to be mounted to aircraft.

Loki hummed in his throat, brushing his fingers against a rotary cannon. “Is this that storage unit that was mentioned earlier? You should just live here instead. It’s certainly bigger than your current residence.”

Barnes turned on him sharply, a suspicion in his eyes that he did not voice. 

Loki smirked, eyebrows raised with put-upon innocence. He did not mention the fate of Barnes’ cubbyhole. Whatever the outcome of this current encounter, at the very least he had struck that blow. 

He cast his eyes over the weaponry on the walls. “This is an impressive collection. Were you preparing yourself for something?”

“What do you want?”

“I believe I was quite clear in that respect.”

“What do you want _right now,_ " Barnes all but growled. "I told you the ship wasn’t ready.”

And evidently, from what Loki had overheard, would not be ready for a very long time. “I believe you. But there is the small matter of you attempting to kill me.” Loki took a step forward; Barnes matched him with a step back. “Did you really expect that I would not come seeking retribution?”

Loki was unsurprised when the door to the storage unit clamped itself shut, blanketing the surroundings in pitch black. He quickly summoned a magelight and a knife, ready and eager to defend himself against whatever weapon Barnes planned to use against him next.

The container was empty.

The weapons were still lining the walls, not a single one removed from its housing. But Barnes was gone. _Again._

Loki felt his frustration rise as he began a careful circuit of the container, checking for any sign of something out of place, any indication of where Barnes might have fled. He couldn’t have just _vanished._ There had been a sound like metallic clamping somewhere near the back of the container, but when Loki approached, he found only seamless metal walls.

Just how many contingency plans did the human possess?

Loki felt his anger rise. Enough of this. He was beginning to care even less that they were in public where others might see. Barnes would not make his escape again. 

He made his way to where he had heard the noise. There had to be something...ah! There it was. A gun on the wall, just partially out of alignment. He grasped at it and a slot in the floor came open, leading into darkness. Loki sent a light down to illuminate, but saw only an expanse of metal floor.

It was likely a trap. He grinned, summoned a second knife, and dropped down to the room below.

 _Oh,_ Loki thought as he noted his surroundings, _so that had not been the correct storage container._

The room he was in was thrice the size of any of the others on the level above. The walls were lined with weapons in even more excess, but those were not what had caught Loki’s attention. Directly to his left and looking like it had come out the poor end of a battle with a dragon, its scratched nose awash in the green glow of Loki's magelight, was a quinjet. Barnes was in the pilot seat, visible through the cracked windows. His hard stare was directed at Loki as the aircraft's guns rotated to lock onto his position.

Clever.

Loki bolted. Gunfire licked at his ankles, searing across his skin. He did not bother to take the time to cloak himself against it. 

This version of the aircraft seemed updated from its predecessor, but he would still bet it would not withstand Asgard-forged weaponry. He circled it and threw himself upwards, climbing the rest of the way onto its roof. The craft’s engines came to life, its entire body immediately surging up towards the ceiling. Loki quickly rolled himself from danger, hanging off the back towards where the ramp would open. He stabbed through the exterior with his knife.

The quinjet had checked its movement as soon as he’d moved himself into place, and now it quickly lowered itself back into a landing position. When Loki managed to tear free an entrance into its bowels, his quarry stood in the center of the ship with a large gun raised. This time, Loki was ready for Barnes to open fire, shielding himself properly as he threw a knife forward. Barnes reacted with lightning-quick reflexes to send the blade to the side, but was not quite able to move in time to prevent the second knife from piercing through and destroying his gun.

Loki summoned more knives as Barnes threw his faulty weapon to the side and backed away, drawing another, smaller gun. It met the same fate as its fellow, and when Loki threw a knife towards Barnes’s neck the metal arm came up in a practiced movement to block its path. 

“It was not personal,” Loki said, breathless with exhilaration. “Not until you _made_ it personal.”

“You’re lying,” Barnes said, the plates of his arm shifting. “It was personal the second you found out I was from Earth.”

“Perhaps,” Loki allowed. “But I did not put forth the first threat.”

“Not out loud,” Barnes said. “And I’m not stupid enough to wait around for someone to decide they want to kill me.”

“Congratulations, then. You certainly don’t have to wait now.”

“That makes it even footing, at least.”

“Except for a glaring detail,” Loki said. He formed his Asgardian armor around himself, enjoying the surprise that filled his opponent’s eyes. “You are not a god.”

Barnes was fast, but what Loki sacrificed in speed for the bulk of his armor he made up for in sheer presence, easily deflecting blows as he slowly gained the upper hand by sheer virtue of being _himself_. Barnes was wide-eyed through a fall of whipping hair, grunting each time he brought his artificial limb up to block Loki’s attacks, the force jarring through the metal. 

“What,” Loki asked, lashing out and sending Barnes flying into the side of the quinjet’s interior with a loud slam. He rushed forward as his quarry leaped back up into a wary crouch, slamming him into the wall. “ _What?_ No more secret weapons? No more _bombs?_ ”

A hint of incredulity entered Barnes’ eyes as he breathed through bared teeth. “You’re disappointed,” he said.

“Not at all,” Loki said, a knife forming in his palm. “It means I can end this all the more quickly.”

His knife was intercepted by the metal limb, which if not quite strong enough to match Loki, was at least accurate enough in its movements to effectively deflect the momentum of the attack. 

Loki grabbed at it and slammed it back against the wall of the quinjet, bringing his knife to Barnes’ throat. Barnes brought his chin up, panting, the metal arm whirring as the plates worked and strained against Loki’s grip. Thigh pressed against thigh as Loki crowded closer to his intended target, pinning him firmly.

Barnes swallowed, a resignation seeping into his eyes as his chest heaved. The fire that had burned in them so brightly during their fight sputtered and faded. He stared at Loki, breathing open-mouthed. 

Instead of triumph at his intended victory, something sour curled on the back of Loki’s tongue.

Barnes took notice. A furrow slowly formed on his brow, then deepened the longer Loki delayed in taking action. “You _are_ disappointed.”

Loki’s frustration colored his voice. “All this weaponry, and you chose one of Earth’s primitive tools to engage me,” he said.

“What the fuck did you expect me to do, take out half the yard and put everyone here at risk?”

A conscience. Loki felt the distaste in the back of his throat swell for an entirely different reason. “That would have been a start.”

“You’re a real piece of work.”

“So I have been told.” Loki gazed over the interior of the aircraft. “So this is your ship. It’s no wonder it was faulty. It was never intended for space travel. I’m surprised it did not falter between planets and turn you into a frozen corpse.” He turned back to Barnes, eyes narrowed. “Why would SHIELD send one of its agents this far out?”

Barnes had managed to catch his breath, but remained stiff against the wall. “Why would you care?”

“Don’t pretend to not know who I am. It’s far too coincidental that you would happen to show up on the same planet.”

“I’m not a SHIELD agent.”

“No? Then perhaps you are a thief. An Earthian criminal. That would certainly explain your efforts to remain undiscovered.”

“Then if I’m not who you think I am why would you think _I_ care who _you_ are?”

“At the moment, I would pick the rather obvious fact that I’m holding a knife to your throat.”

Barnes moved in a flash of his free hand, pressing his own knife to the underside of Loki’s chin. At the prick of the blade into flesh, Loki felt a pulse run through him, bright like lightning. 

Delight burrowed its way in alongside grating rage. “Did I strike close to the mark?”

Barnes didn’t answer, but his expression had once again gone angry. Challenging. There was still plenty of fear, but now the surrender had left him. A sharp coldness filled his eyes, like a storm at sea. He looked like he wanted to tear Loki’s throat out with his teeth.

Loki kissed him. Viciously and purposefully.

He felt Barnes tense with shock against him, mouth parting on a gasp. Loki swallowed his breath and felt the plates of the metal arm shift beneath his grip. The knife against Loki’s throat scraped away another layer of skin, a sharp burn carving into his nerves. He nearly made an indecent noise at the pain.

It was a stalemate of blades and lips. Loki’s heart pounded with full force as he spent every microsecond caught in the blissful in-between of needs, unsure of which way either himself or Barnes would fall. 

Then Loki finally broke them apart, panting for - if he was honest with himself - a not entirely new reason. Barnes was wide-eyed, his bow-shaped lips swollen red from Loki’s attack. The rest of him was frozen.

Then Barnes released a shaky breath. “This a normal thing with you?” The words were casual, but there was a roughened edge to his voice.

Loki dropped his grip on the metal arm, instead bringing it up to thumb at the mark of red he’d made with his own blade on Barnes’s throat. He enjoyed the hitch of breath, and the ensuing swallow he could feel beneath his fingers. “I did invite you in for a drink.”

“And me rigging an explosive in your yard for defensive purposes was just a turn on.”

Loki raised his eyebrows.

Barnes swore under his breath. “You really are a piece of work.”

Loki leaned back in. Barnes did not engage but cautiously allowed the contact, his passiveness at odds with the rigidity of the knife he yet held and the metal hand Loki felt clamp upon his shoulder. The strengthened smell of grease was just another added layer of sharpness, pairing well with the burn of stubble over Loki’s skin. When metal fingers reached up and caught in Loki’s hair, pulling him back and sending pain in a flare over his scalp, he nearly released the moan he had swallowed earlier.

“What the hell do you want,” Barnes asked, eyes still furious, the coldness of them gone razor sharp. 

Annoyed at the interruption, Loki raised his eyebrow. “Was I being unclear?”

“I’m not a fucking toy for you to play with.”

“A toy would not be nearly as entertaining.”

“You can see the condition of my ship. It’s not going to be ready for any sort of interplanetary flight for years.”

“A fact that is secondary to my current interest.”

“And your primary one _isn’t_ the goddamn knife at your throat.”

“Oh, no,” Loki said with a wide grin. “The knife is exactly just right.”

Eyebrows pulled together in confusion, Barnes yanked at Loki’s hair with more insistence, pulling him around so his back was to the wall. Loki allowed it, the sting flowing down his back and snaking deliciously into his core. “So take off the armor,” Barnes said.

Loki kept his own knife raised. “Was that an order?” 

Another jerk of his hair. “Stop playing with me,” Barnes hissed, “and take off your damn armor.”

Loki wondered if the request was just Barnes attempting to give himself further opening to attempt to land a killing blow.

Loki called forth his magic. His armor faded in a shimmer of green, leaving him in a black tunic and trousers of green leather. 

Barnes looked him up and down. A shiver ran through Loki at the scrutiny.

His hair was released. Barnes backed away a quick step, disengaging both blades from their respective throats. He stared at Loki for a long moment, expression closed off. Then he reached up for the zipper to his jacket, pulling it loose before shrugging free of it. 

Loki’s surprise must have shown on his face, because Barnes said, “Are you just going to stand there?”

Loki was, in fact, not just going to stand there. He stowed his weapon and stepped forward. Instantly he found himself with the knife again pressed against his throat, Barnes’ eyes sparking a glaring warning. Unable to continue disrobing and threaten Loki at the same time, the human stood with awkward stiffness until Loki obliged by gripping fabric with his hands and tearing it from his torso.

Scars were revealed, a mottling that ran down at the seam of metal and flesh. Loki only had a moment to examine them before he was pushed back against the wall. The knife was drawn from his throat to tear roughly through his tunic. 

This time it was Barnes who came forward for the kiss, rough and bitter, and with skin on skin it was so much better, the fury and the sharpness. Loki pressed back as best he could without slitting his own throat, and felt metal fingers reach down past his waistband to grip harshly against his cock. He made a choked noise as he felt them apply pressure in searching squeezes, as if Barnes was trying to catch Loki in a lie about his own arousal.

They parted. Barnes stared into Loki’s face, pupils blown wide and a flush beginning to make its way down to his broad chest. Loki eagerly stared back. 

Barnes seemed to come to some sort of decision. He took a quick step over to a compartment in the wall, and pulled forth a pair of large cuffs.

Loki’s arousal lurched upwards so sharply he could feel it behind his teeth. Outwardly, he set his face in anger and said, “No.”

“It’s only going to be one hand,” Barnes said. “Call it insurance. I’m sure it’s not strong enough to stop you completely.”

Loki inhaled and exhaled, saliva building in his mouth that he had to roughly swallow. 

“On your knees, forearms braced over the seat of the chair beside you,” Barnes said, as if Loki’s obedience was a foregone conclusion. “Do it. Turn around.”

Loki felt the burn of humiliation in his chest, struggling with the urge to summon his armor, kill Barnes, and simply leave then and there. Barnes stared back at him, unmoved. Even naked, he wouldn’t have been divested of his most useful weapon. That put the situation on rather more dangerous ground for Loki.

He almost wished it was more of a deterrent. Slowly, Loki turned. He felt Barnes surge up behind him and assist by kicking at the backs of his knees and pressing down at the join of his shoulders, pushing him so the front of his chest dug into the hard edge of the seat. Barnes jerked his hand forward and encased it in a magnetic shackle, stretching his arm and attaching the restraint's partner to a spot behind the seat. When the magnetization activated, Loki's wrist was further pinned against it.

He gave it an experimental tug, feeling the restraint was not quite as unyielding as he would have liked. He could probably break it, but it would take effort. Perhaps too much effort to give him enough speed to prevent Barnes from killing him if he so chose.

“If you attempt to take advantage,” Loki said, voice low. “I’ll put your head on a pike.”

“I don’t find threats half as attractive as you do,” Barnes said. Loki could not help the low scoffing noise he made in response. “I know you don’t care about being a little uncomfortable. It’s just a fucking precaution.”

“Was that a pun?”

Barnes grasped at the back of Loki’s neck with his metal hand, pushing him down in answer. Loki grunted and then laughed again as he felt the grip threaten to rise to bruising levels. 

“I was not expecting you to be shy, exactly,” Loki said. “But this level of enthusiasm is somewhat unexpected.”

“Yeah,” Barnes said. “It’s real hilarious.”

Barnes tore at Loki’s trousers, pushing them down around his knees, then reached around to take Loki’s cock in hand. The strokes that followed were perfunctory, the roughness brimming Loki’s humiliation and arousal into an intertwined length that coiled low in his belly. He bucked forward with a muffled noise, his free hand gripping into the seat of the chair as he thrust into the grip. Barnes did not encourage or dissuade him, only kept his restraining grip against the back of Loki’s neck as the minutes began to stretch.

It wasn’t enough. With the awkward position, he could not get the leverage he needed to chase the feeling in exactly the way he wanted, and Barnes did not seem to have any interest in being an especially giving partner. He touched Loki roughly, efficiently, putting his strength into maneuvering him exactly where he needed him to be without any added creativity. 

When Loki felt something cold and wet press insistently against him he jerked forward - dizzily wondering when Barnes had even taken the time to grab lubrication. The penetration was fast, unrelenting, with movements exactly as precise as they needed to progress as quickly as possible. It burned, filling him too roughly and with too much speed. Loki made a strained noise that was caught in his chest, then gripped hard enough at the backing of the seat that a portion of it broke free. The hand on his cock tightened, like it was a leash through which he could be controlled. The movements Loki had been making to chase his own arousal were abruptly brought up short, a dull ache washing through his genitals at the cruel grip.

He expected to be scolded, or warned against fighting, but Barnes didn’t say anything. He just began fucking Loki with rough, steady movements, still holding him at neck and cock.

“Are you always this romantic with your partners,” Loki said between panted breaths.

“We’re not partners,” Barnes said. He slammed his hips against Loki’s hard enough that Loki released a bark of a shout in response. “And you’re getting the fuck out of here as soon as we’re done.”

“Am I,” Loki said, and then the hand at his cock began moving again, sending Loki’s thoughts fluttering like leaves on a strong breeze.

“Don’t worry,” Barnes said, with something like bitterness. “I’ll make sure it’s worth it.”

Barnes’ metal hand on the back of Loki’s neck was immovable, the digits attached to the hand now certainly gripping tight enough to bruise. They only grew tighter as Barnes grew closer to finishing. He kept up his furious pace, pistoning into Loki with relentless strength, dragging over Loki’s insides teasingly close to the spot that would stir his arousal higher. 

Loki’s frustration built, until finally he brought his free hand down, intending on inspiring Barnes to release his grip on his cock and balls. The metal hand on the back of his neck pulled free in an instant, moving with blinding speed to knock his hand away from its aimed path and engulf Loki’s cock itself, clamping down with brutal force. Loki’s eyes went wide and he reared upright with a shout.

He clamped his free hand over the wrist attached to the metal limb, a thin whine dragging through his teeth. He could not find enough thought for the right angle to remove it, and pulling mindlessly at the limb would only serve to yank at his cock along with it. He quivered, breathing in shallow breaths, and with a swallowed whimper again considered breaking the restraint on his wrist. 

Barnes was still pounding into him, like this sort of multitasking was routine, like it was only a chore he needed to complete. He was holding Loki by the genitals with both hands, the metal grip like a vice keeping Loki’s pelvis positioned exactly where Barnes wished it positioned. Loki would be unable to make any movement of worth in stirring his own arousal now unless he broke the boundary imposed by the magnetic cuff. 

He spent what felt like several minutes caught between the building heat in his loins and the niggling fear that perhaps Barnes was going to try his hand at crushing Loki’s genitals if he displeased him by putting any real effort into pulling free. He breathed through his teeth, his free hand still gripped around the metallic wrist. Barnes reached up and pressed his flesh hand into the side of Loki’s neck, pulling him back far enough that the shoulder connected to his bound wrist strained at the position. Loki soon realized why as Barnes increased his pace until his movements were almost frenzied, enough to jar even Loki’s body. If he hadn’t been holding him, Loki’s face would probably have smashed repeatedly into the back of the chair.

Another whine stirred in the back of Loki’s throat as Barnes consistently aimed only for his own pleasure, and he had to be getting close, how much stamina did the human _have_. Loki scraped nails along the metal limb, fingers scrabbling, but Barnes would not remove his iron grip. Loki’s cock felt swollen and heavy, the grip constricting it tight like a monstrous cockring. 

He twisted his bound wrist, his lungs spasming with his breaths, the heat of Barnes’ body a rigid press against his ass and back. He could smell grease and sweat, feel heavy breaths brush over the back of his neck.

Then Barnes started to move the metal limb. 

His hold had only loosened a fraction, just enough to allow movement along tender flesh. He pulled at Loki’s cock, slow at first, then with gaining speed and strict pressure. The heat in Loki’s loins was rising in temperature, the assault of friction becoming a furnace, an inferno. He was getting what he’d wanted, but the pain of it was just on the side of far too edged to take him completely. He tried to focus, to chase the building pressure. He clamped his eyes shut and saw red.

The grip of metal was steady, authoritarian in its brutal handling. Loki tried to hold onto his control but it was sliding out of reach, turning him into something that was only meant to feel what that contemptible limb meant for him to feel. The roar of pain and pleasure vied for supremacy. Grunts washed again and again against the inside of his throat. 

It was too much. He started to forget why he was staying put at all, and not just lashing out and breaking the source of such overwhelming sensation. And why shouldn’t he fight his way free? Why shouldn’t he just have the right to destroy everything? 

Norns above, he was a _prince_ of…of...

His thoughts faltered. Barnes was still moving behind him, still keeping his angle stubbornly from the spot that would make everything sweeter. Unaware or unconcerned that Loki had stopped fighting, allowing himself to be handled like a doll as he was fucked.

Prince of what?

Nothing. 

Prince of Nothing, allowing himself to be abased by some random and dangerous human he’d chosen to follow in the outer reaches, like a dog chasing its own tail in hopes that biting it off would somehow provide relief from the itch that plagued it.

Loki felt the burn of fury spread along overstimulated nerves. He let the pain of the callous handling feed into it until it began to stir into frenzied levels. The muscles in his forearm tightened in preparation to tear himself free of the magnetic cuff.

Before he could do so, Barnes _finally_ thrust into him with the angle he needed and his thoughts shattered.

\----------

Barnes pulled out of him when Loki was finished. He reached over to unbind Loki’s wrist while he was still limp against the seat.

Eventually, Loki brought himself to movement, his shoulder audibly popping. He grimaced, twisting his sore wrist, and turned over so the lip of the seat was pressed against his upper back and shoulders, uncaring of the discomfort as he leaned his head back against it. The rage he’d felt had sputtered with his climax, and he found he could not revive it. His genitals were raw and sore, hanging heavy between his legs.

Barnes was wiping his metal hand in rough strokes to remove Loki’s come. He threw the cloth to the side when he was finished, then pulled his trousers on over his hardened length. The flush lingering in his skin and the labored quality to his breaths belied the indifference on his face. 

Barnes hadn’t come. That stung, but the humiliation for Loki was yet distant in the blanket of lassitude that covered him.

Barnes glanced at his torn shirt on the ground for half a moment before he simply picked up his jacket, pulling it over bared skin and zipping it back up.

“So,” Loki said. “Two years.”

Barnes went still, his severe gaze directed somewhere in the middle distance. “More,” he eventually said. “Now that there’s added damage.” His voice remained flat, though there was a lingering hoarseness to it. “Gonna be fun explaining that.” He finally turned his gaze over to Loki, eyes flickering down his still bare body. Then he looked away again, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “You can leave, now.”

The calmness Loki felt alongside his shame drained from him in an instant. The wrath he had been searching for came again, invigorating him into movement. He rose, summoning his armor to cover his nudity as he approached. “Who said our bargain is complete?”

“There’s no bargain,” Barnes said with stubborn disinterest. “We’re not on a date. And I don’t have a usable ship for you to steal. So unless you want to go back to trying to kill each other, go ahead and fuck off.”

Loki felt the snarl pull at his mouth just as Barnes braced himself, shoulders squaring and hands curled loosely at his sides. That look of resignation began to edge its way back into his gaze, along with an indeterminable expression.

But Loki was not forced to consider it further, for a loud clang rang out in the storage compartment before its lights flared to life above the quinjet, blazing white across its interior. Several pairs of footsteps echoed in stomps across the floor.

Loki froze. Barnes darted his gaze to the windows, a new anxiety sparking in them.

A voice rang out. “Barnes, the property manager for your apartment is here, along with a dozen officers. Did you _burn your place down_?”

Slowly, Barnes turned his gaze on Loki in realization.

Loki grimaced. “Ah.”

Barnes lashed out quick as a viper to clap his open palm against Loki’s thigh. A spike of pain ran through Loki’s leg strongly enough to unbalance him, long enough to spare Barnes the time to race to the front of the quinjet and slam his artificial limb repeatedly against the glass. 

Loki pulled the cause of the pain - a small electrical disc - from his flesh with a snarl as the quinjet’s windows shattered and Barnes threw himself over the nose of the ship.

A strange beeping noise began to sound. The aircraft’s cockpit was blinking red. Loki recognized the label beneath it as the communications array.

The light flashed into green. A screen above it was activated. 

Director Fury was speaking, already mid-sentence, his voice gravelly with electronic static. “-you are, you better bring my jet back before I - son of a bitch! _Loki?_ ”

The screen met its end in a hail of sparks. Loki clenched his jaw, and saw Barnes down below speaking to the gathered men and glancing warily back towards the quinjet.

Well, wasn’t this a perfect turn of events. 

He cloaked himself from sight.

\----------

Barnes was questioned regarding the arson to his recently vacated apartment. He received words of concern from his employer concerning his recent wild damage to the very aircraft he had just been laboring so hard to get into working order. Barnes didn’t mention Loki in any of his explanations - but, without a universal translator, that may have been just expediency.

Loki silently observed their interactions until he was fairly certain that Barnes would not face any major charges for the damage. It was suspicious to them that Barnes would permanently leave his residence so soon before its destruction, but the shop’s owner spoke out as to his reliability and offered compensation on the human’s behalf. It wasn’t as if the cubbyhole had been a particularly expensive piece of property, after all.

Once he was certain that Barnes was not to be arrested, Loki made his way to the opening for the storage unit. It would be prudent to reconvene their encounter at a later time. He did not need any more of a cascade in the attention he had already drawn.

He glanced back towards the group just before exiting. The shop’s owner was offering his own residence as temporary lodging. Barnes exhibited a penitent posture in the midst of the officers, even though he had performed no actual crime. But his eyes were hard as stone and, for just a moment, raised themselves to stare across the storage compartment and lock with eerie precision upon Loki’s face.

Loki went still, but Barnes had already lowered his gaze back to the ground. He did not look up again.

Loki shook his head, stepping out into the repair yard. _Later,_ he thought. _I will finish this later._

 _You should abandon it,_ another part of him urged. _You have grown far too sloppy. You’ve fallen low enough that you are putting far too much effort into something that should have been a simple task. Drop this, and find something easier._

That would certainly be the safer option. Fury had seen him. Whatever implications the Director’s words had carried for the man Loki had been hunting were a distant concern to the fact that Earth was now aware of his continued existence. 

It was only a matter of time before Heimdall was commanded to cast his gaze in search for hints as to his location. And then, undoubtedly, the mighty Thor would come searching for his erstwhile, traitorous sibling. Or maybe even Odin himself. 

Loki disapparated his armor and left for the bar. He had a strong inclination to not remain entirely sober.

\----------

In retrospect, Loki should have known it would be coming. The blade of the axe.

He’d been practically inviting it, after all. He just hadn’t assumed it would be quite so...underhanded.

Poison in his drink. Powerful enough to burn through his veins with astonishing quickness, to be enough to weaken him with frightening intensity even when he immediately noticed the effects and did not finish his glass.

He attempted to burn it out, but it was too strong for his magic to appreciably control the damage. It felt like a rabid creature was trying to tear its way out of his stomach. 

He made his exit quickly. No one in the bar stood out as a particular threat, because _everyone_ was a particular threat. 

He was racing somewhere to expel the poison when his stomach suddenly cramped with a horrid viciousness and forced him to perform his goal much earlier than intended.

Time jumped.

\----------

Rough hands pulled at him. Acid coated his tongue.

Cold gripped tightly into his neck.

His stomach lurched into his throat and more bile rushed free.

Someone cursed. _“Well, whatever drug those guys snuck to you, it’s damn effective.”_

His limbs would not respond, and his breaths keened pitifully from the roaring flame that had replaced his throat. He might have said words, but his thoughts dispersed like morning mist before the beaming sun. 

Another curse. _“All right, fuck...do me a favor and try not to puke on me.”_

Movement like tearing razor blades. Then, nothing.

\----------

His head pounded. His throat was full of glass. His stomach felt as if a raging wolf had torn through it and then made its way gnawing through the rest of his insides.

And he was bound. 

Loki wished he did not have such an intensive inventory of the myriad of ways a person could be restrained. He also wished that the current set of cruel shackles and chains weren’t quite so recognizable, even without being viewed. 

In his mind’s eye he saw an asteroid field floating among the black. A staircase that led to a large throne of metal.

A great ship full of cells, a stinking pit of misery and death. Whips, needles, and venom.

His throat tightened. He’d thought the poison seemed familiar.

But when he opened his eyes, it wasn’t to the interior of a ship. It was his own residence. 

An expansive lush green carpet cushioned him from the stone floor. At the other end of it, a single figure sat on a chair, legs spread wide in a casual slouch, and holding a knife in a way that could only be interpreted as casually threatening. 

Barnes.

Loki jerked as he recognized him. For a moment he wondered wildly if it was _him_ who had been conscripted for Loki’s capture, and thought bitterly what a fool he had been in seeking him out for interaction. 

But the words that came next disproved that theory. “So what the hell does Thanos mean?”

Loki swallowed, testing his bonds, grimacing as they bruised unforgivably, the chains designed to tighten and bite and tear at any sign of struggle. Chitauri make. 

And even more pressing of a worry - a collar around his throat, of a more advanced creation, designed to effectively rid him of any access to his magic. 

His current captor spoke. “The guys that bagged you definitely had universal translator implants, so I know I didn’t mishear that. They were really shifty when they said it, too, like they didn’t want anyone to hear.”

He jolted, then angled his neck up awkwardly. “Did you kill them?”

Barnes shrugged, eyes unwaveringly boring into Loki. “Their equipment was good. But not much else.”

So, not only had he been successfully drugged by possible bounty hunters unknown, they had been of a low enough bar that even this human could manage to defeat them. Loki tried not to let the sting of that show on his face.

Barnes scowled. “They wanted to sew your eyes and lips shut for transport.”

Loki’s breathing hitched, and he swore at himself internally for allowing such weakness to show. He squirmed again, but quickly aborted the attempt as the chains constricted against his chest with bruising intensity. 

“Saw lots of things on their ship meant to keep you in check after they caught you.” Barnes gestured with a knife towards the chains. “Figured it was a good idea to leave those on while we had a talk.”

“By all means, then, talk,” Loki said, his breath quickening. “I am, apparently, at your mercy.” _And the moment I find my way free, I will rip your head from your shoulders and be on my way._

“Thanos,” Barnes repeated.

This time, Loki could not help the flinch. 

“Yeah, figured he was bad news. Knows how to handle _you_ , at any rate.” Barnes leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The knife was still gripped readily in his hand. “What does he want with Earth?”

Loki frowned. “What?”

“Those hunters had a few things to say about you. They mentioned Earth. Specifically, they mentioned you getting torn to pieces for failing Thanos when he sent you to conquer it. I got the sense they didn’t mean that metaphorically.”

Loki wished, dimly, the human would stop saying _his name._ “He wants with Earth what he wants with most of the known universe,” Loki said. “Destruction, to suit his goals of tyranny.”

“And how likely is he to achieve any of that.”

“I had not intended on staying in one place long enough to find out,” Loki said.

Barnes’ voice was flat. “Didn’t look to me like you were trying very hard to run.” 

“I did not have a ship.”

“Was pretending to want to kill me part of the plan to find one?”

Loki clamped his mouth shut hard enough that his teeth clacked. He pushed as much of his fury through his eyes as he could manage. “If you do not remove these chains soon,” he carefully said, “I’ll be sure to do a much better job of convincing you once I find my way free.”

“And after telling everyone in the city your real name and finding out the quinjet was broken you just went back to the _same_ bar to wallow in alcohol and leave yourself open to attack in every conceivable way possible. It was like you wanted them to find you.”

“I am beginning to think it would be more interesting than the current string of conversation.”

“You also asked to have me join you,” Barnes said, as if Loki had not even spoken. 

“I was drunk.”

“And you told me up front that you’re a liar.”

Loki’s glare strengthened, and he _did_ feel murderous intent with vigor. “Are you quite done with your assessment?”

The human went quiet. The knife twirled repeatedly in his hand, the movement fluid and practiced. “I looked up Thanos. There wasn’t much on him in the interplanetary net. ‘Wanted for war crimes,’ was the general gist. But I went digging deeper.” The knife did not falter in its movements. “Every time he attacks a planet, at least half of all life that was on it is gone.”

It seemed there would be no movements any time soon towards his freedom. Loki again began to work at his chains, moving subtly to prevent discovery. “What does it matter? Were you planning on facing him down yourself? With a knife?”

“No,” Barnes answered. He leaned back in his seat. “I’m not even half that stupid. But why isn’t anyone else?”

“The entire universe is not some interconnected system of relationships,” Loki said. “The vast majority of planets do not believe he will ever become their problem. And there are far more pressing threats and wars on the horizon for them.”

“And what do you think,” Barnes asked. “From the way it sounds, he had you and you got out.”

Loki’s throat tightened. He remembered the sound of grating shrieks, and the feel of a hand gripping into the side of his face. “I was placed beyond his reach.”

“If he’s sending people from that far out, you must be worth a lot to him. And from what I saw of where those guys wanted to put you, you can survive a _really_ long time without food or water or movement.”

Loki went still, swallowing roughly against the collar. He pushed for his magic, but the workings of it remained impenetrable. “Even if your ship wasn’t in need of repairs, it would take years to reach him.”

“So you’re not just worth a lot, you’re worth _a lot,_ ” Barnes amended. He moved to his feet, turning his back.

Loki paused in his straining, craning his neck and frowning when he noted the human simply picking up his large zippered pack with straps. It looked full to bursting.

Loki narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“You were out for a while. Whoever was hunting you, we stripped their ship for parts. Quinjet got a new engine. It’s officially space worthy.”

Loki’s fear burned hot and bright. A growl tore from his throat. “If you lay even a hand on me-”

“I think your biggest threat isn’t outside your head,” Barnes said bluntly. 

“Then what are you doing,” Loki hissed, still suspicious. “You know that I attempted to conquer your planet.”

Barnes stared at him. “You really don’t remember anything they said.”

“What? Who?”

“You’re not the only one who knows how to hide and listen in on other people’s conversations. You woke up a few times while they were restraining you, but it looks like you were still too out of it for anything to stick.”

He said nothing else. Loki waited, then breathed out in exasperation around his pounding heart. “ _And?_ ”

“The things they said about your situation under Thanos reminded me of someone,” Barnes said vaguely. 

“So that’s it,” Loki said. He twisted, inviting the pain that followed. “You think you _know_ me, now-”

“Don’t think I could know about you any more than I already did when I had my dick inside you,” Barnes said, unconcerned when Loki scowled. “You’re gonna get out of those chains sometime soon. I’m not sticking around to wait for that to happen.”

Loki frowned, the edge to his fury dulling in confusion. “You’re not...intending on handing me over?”

“No.”

“Or going to attempt to kill me?”

“Try not to cry about it.” He stood, his belongings slung over his shoulder, looking down at Loki. “If I were you, I wouldn’t stick around waiting for the next wave. Unless you still feel like you’d be better off dead.”

Then he left without another word. 

Loki heard the door shut and lock. He swallowed passed the lump in his throat, then snarled as he went to work in earnest on loosening his bonds.

Between the lingering effects of the drug, the strictness of the collar, and the cruelty of the chains, he was sure it took hours. Plenty of time for Barnes to make a true escape.

And even if the human had stalled at any point in his maneuverings, Loki found himself temporarily not in the best of conditions as he achieved his freedom. Once the abhorrent restraints were discarded, his body cried out from the pain of his struggle against chains that had tried their best to break bone. He moved stiffly on his feet, impatiently wishing that his healing would lessen his hurt, and made his way outside.

A piece of paper on the ground in the yard made him hesitate. There was an arrow drawn on its surface, pointing in the direction of, alarmingly, what looked like the very same skiff he had parted with for money upon his arrival to the planet. 

He warily approached it, and found a second piece of paper stuck to the golden casing. 

_It’s fixed._

_No traps._

_Sorry if that disappoints you._

He didn’t know where Barnes would go. The human clearly still had a strong concern for Earth, even if he would rather that no one there knew his location. And somehow, his conscience had been stirred enough that he had not only allowed Loki to live, he’d given him the means to make his way off the planet.

Loki breathed in a sigh through his nostrils, fury and fear and longing all vying for attention. 

It would seem he had some choices ahead of him.


End file.
